


It's Getting Darker But I'll Carry On

by CamsthiSky



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-07
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-08-20 00:39:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8230216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CamsthiSky/pseuds/CamsthiSky
Summary: "This could not be happening. Of course he’d be with the one idiot who didn't know that once a zombie found you, there weren’t many ways to get it off your trail—and hiding in an abandoned house wasn't one of them. How was this guy even still alive right now?"





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I should probably be updating my other one thousand fics but whatever. This one called to me. Thanks to Hay for editing this for me. Appreciate it!
> 
> edit: soooo I thought that I could write romance but I can't--at least not for this story, so the tags have changed and it's a gen story. At least for now.

Lance was rustling through the kitchen cupboards when he first heard the guttural moaning. Frozen, he waited, listening closely. If he could just get an estimate on how close it was, then maybe he’d be okay. Maybe he wouldn't have to fight.

The moan sounded again and chills ran up his spine. That sounded _way_ too close for comfort. Like, the _next room_ close. Was the thing inside the abandoned house? Or was it outside, roaming around? He hoped it was the latter, because he really, _really_ did not want to shoot anything. The sound would only bring more-

Footsteps. Living room.

“ _Shit,”_ Lance hissed quietly, gathering up what he could and shoving it in his bag. He'd have to sort through it later. “Shit shit _shit.”_

The moment he slung his backpack over his shoulders, he was creeping towards the archway that led to the living room, gun held with hands that didn't shake—after a year of almost constant shooting, it was like he’d been doing it all his life.

He didn't see anything when he peered into the living room. No signs of life or the undead, but that didn't mean that Lance was alone in the house. He had a bad feeling boiling in his gut, and he _knew_ he heard footsteps earlier. Something was here.

The question, though, was why it wasn't coming after him already. Usually Lance would have been charged by now.

The thing was, zombies had taken over the world, infecting people left and right until less than ten percent of the world’s population was left. It had been almost a year now, and humans were resilient. Everyone had picked up the pieces and pushed forward. There were safe havens now, camps where people could _live_ , proving every day that humans could adapt.

Zombies, though. Zombies couldn't adapt. They had no intelligence. Enough tests had proven the undead ran off instincts. They were literally brain dead, no higher cognitive processing happening whatsoever—or at least, that's what Lance understood.

As he stood there, gun held high, waiting for something to jump out at him, Lance was kind of starting to wonder if that was correct or not. Because if it wasn't, then Lance was probably screwed.

Too bad. He was really looking forward to winning that bet about not dying with Hunk. Hopefully the guy wouldn't be too upset about Lance not coming back.

“Holy _shit_ ,” a voice said from behind him, and Lance jumped _at least_ a foot in the air, turning on his heel to face the owner. Dark blue eyes blinked out at him from under a mullet, and Lance couldn't help but stare back. Because this guy was _definitely_ not a zombie. “You're human.”

Lance cocked an eyebrow, lowering his gun, but keeping it at the ready. Just because this guy wasn't a zombie, didn't mean that they weren't still out there. But that explained the footsteps. And probably disproved the “zombies are smarter than we think” theory, too. Thank God.

“Yeah,” Lance said. “I'm human. Who are _you?_ ”

Mullet Man bristled. So he probably could have been a little gentler when phrasing that, but he was still on edge from being outside the relative safety of the camp. He felt too exposed, and his attitude could get downright nasty sometimes.

(Just ask Pidge. She absolutely hated doing raids with him anymore.)

“A human,” Mullet Man muttered, crossing his arms in a way that Lance thought was really stupid and reckless—which was kind of weird to think about since Lance was the _king_ of stupid and reckless. “I was looking for food with my brother when we got split up.”

Lance’s breath hitched. “Got split up _how?”_ he asked. Because if it was how he thought it was then—

“There was this hoard of zombies, and I got turned around. The next thing I know, I'm running for my life— _hey!”_

But Lance wasn't listening anymore. Grabbing Mullet Man’s arm, Lance tugged him towards the kitchen, checking the window for an all clear before he pushed out the door, hopped over the fence, and sprinted into the woods.

No no no _no._ This could _not_ be happening. Of course he’d be with the one idiot who didn't know that once a zombie found you, there weren’t many ways to get it off your trail — and hiding in an abandoned _house_ wasn't one of them. How was this guy even still alive right now?

Mullet Man looked irritated as Lance dragged him deeper into the woods. “Will you please tell me where we’re going?”

“Somewhere the shot isn't going to be heard,” Lance said tersely, zigzagging around a bristly bush and stopping at the trunk of a particular tall tree. This seemed far enough away. Probably. He turned to Mullet Man, who’d fallen weirdly quiet.

Okay, maybe not weirdly. The guy didn't really seem like the talkative type, now that Lance thought about it. When Lance was quiet for a moment too long, the guy stared straight back at Lance, eyebrows furrowing. “What? What's wrong?”

Lance shook his head. “Come on, let's climb,” he said, glad that Mullet Man didn't question him. Once they settled in the tree branch, Lance slid his backpack off his shoulders, shoving his gun into Mullet Man’s hands for safekeeping (luckily the guy looked like he knew how to hold the thing).

Mullet Man was looking at him weird, though. “Wait a minute, you're not going to shoot it?”

Lance smirked. “Oh. No, I'm _definitely_ going to shoot it, and I'm going to be amazing at it. You're going to be insanely jealous of my zombie killing skills.”

The other guy snorted but didn't say anything else, just watched as Lance pulled out his bayard, activating it while watching Mullet Man’s eyes go wide.

And go wide they did, enough that Lance couldn't help but grin, even as tense as he was.

“What _is_ that?” Mullet Man asked. “Is that a _gun?”_

“You like what you see?” Lance laughed. “A couple geniuses at our camp developed these things called bayards. Basically they’re compressible weapons. Easy to store, and gets the job done when needed.”

“Woah.”

“Shh.”

The grin slid off Lance’s face. He strained his ears, listening. He thought he heard—yeah. Shuffling. That was definitely shuffling. Luckily, it didn't sound like more than one— thank God. And Lance had scouted out these woods a million times before, since it was relatively near to the camp. He knew this place like the back of his hand. He could do this.

The zombie shuffled into view—slow, creepy, and looking very undead. Zombies were pretty nasty up close, and Lance was more than happy to put them out of their misery. Nobody should have skin that dead looking _ever_. Even during a zombie apocalypse. Even if you were a zombie.

Lance took a deep breath, forcing his whole body to relax. He waited one, two, three minutes before the zombie finally shuffled to the place Lance had picked ages ago as The Spot.

Lance pulled the trigger.

The thing about guns were that they were _loud;_ Lance had lucked out with his bayard. It wasn't nearly as loud as an actual sniper rifle would be, but it still made a noise that had Mullet Man wincing from where he was sitting next to him on the branch. Lance was glad they'd had time to come out here, otherwise they'd probably be hopelessly surrounded by now.

But now they could (probably) relax. Lance had blown off the zombie’s head, and that usually did the job of stopping the things from moving, so he let out his breath in a relieved huff.

“Alright, Mullet Man,” Lance laughed, shoulders _actually_ relaxing now that the zombie couldn't get them. He turned to his companion. “Let's go find that brother of yours.”

Mullet Man raised an eyebrow. “ _Mullet Man?”_ he asked, face scrunching up in incredulity. “Seriously?”

Lance shrugged, an easy grin pulling at his lips. “Hey, I had to call you something.”

“Then call me Keith,” the guy said. “Not _Mullet Man_. Who are you?”

“The name’s Lance,” he said, holding out a hand, one that Keith took. “Zombie Slayer extraordinaire.”


	2. Chapter 2

There were two things that Lance figured out in the space of three hours.

One: finding Keith’s brother was a major flop. There was no way in hell they were gonna find Mr. Missing when Keith had no idea where to even start. The guy didn’t even have a meet up point or anything like that. Or if he did, he didn’t share it with the class.

Two: Keith thought he was better than him—well, Lance wasn’t exactly sure about that one, but he was sure that Keith wasn’t listening to a word he was even saying anymore.

“Where are we even going?” Keith asked from somewhere behind him.

Lance huffed an irritated sigh. Case in point. “I already told you. We’re going back to my camp.”

The footsteps behind him stuttered a step before there was some angry stomping and Keith came up beside him, swatting at a branch in his path. His expression screamed  _ “fear me!” _ and Lance was not impressed. He’d faced both Pidge and Allura too many times for even zombies to scare the shit out of him at this point. Keith wasn't close to Pidge  _ or _ Allura  _ or _ zombies. 

“What do you mean we’re going to your camp?” Keith demanded. “What about my brother?”

“Look dude, I feel bad about your brother,” Lance started, making sure that Keith was actually paying attention this time when he was talking, “but there’s literally nothing we can do in the dark. Once the sun goes down, you get inside. That’s the rule.”

Keith snorted. “What happened to all that ‘Zombie Slayer’ stuff you were spewing earlier?”

Okay, that was it. Lance stopped in his tracks, forcing Keith to stop, too.

“You ever been ambushed by zombies in the dark, Mullet Man? I don't know about you, but I don't mess around with something that can get me killed.”

“I’m not an idiot,” Keith told him, his shoulders tensing. “I know it’s harder in the dark, but my brother’s out there right now! I can handle the zombies.”

Lance stared. This was a living, breathing, desperate  _ idiot _ in front of him right now. He couldn’t believe that his spot for number reckless moron was getting trounced by Mullet Man. 

The hardest part was that he understood Keith one hundred percent—if it was Hunk out there instead Mr. Missing, there would probably be nothing besides Allura’s wrath (maybe not even that) that could stop him from searching for his friend.

But he and Hunk had backup plans. Plans they could fall back on if things went south. It had been drilled into them on day one of raid training. Keith and his brother apparently didn’t have anything of the sort. All Lance had gotten when he’d asked was,  _ “Uh, we had a radio, but it, uh, it died on me.” _

Great. That was real helpful.

So, with no leads and the sun about to set, it was time to get back to the camp and plan out their next move. It was really the only option at this point besides wandering aimlessly and pray that they find Mr. Missing before they were zombie chow.

“Look, man, as much as I hate to be the voice of reason,” Lance hissed (Pidge would be laughing hysterically if she could hear him right now), “we have no idea where your brother is! Without any leads, the best thing we can do is go back to camp! So that’s. What. I’m. Doing.” He accentuated each word with a poke to Keith’s chest.

They stared each other down for a good minute. Finally, Keith broke eye contact to glower at the trees surrounding them. “Fine,” he said, clearly not liking the fact that he was agreeing.

Lance relaxed a bit, rolling his shoulders for good measure.

Wow, that’d had him really wound up. Well, better just to move on and forget about it for now. He could think it over when they weren’t so exposed.

“Okay,” Lance said, his voice a million times calmer now that Keith was finally listening to reason. He started walking again, and Keith reluctantly moved after him. “It’s not too far, now. We should get there pretty soon.”

* * *

When Lance punched in the code for the first door, he couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. The air had been thick with tension ever since Lance and Keith’s argument, and Lance—already on edge—had not really appreciated the extra stress.

Soon as the door closed behind them, Lance let out a huff of laughter, looking back at Keith. The Mullet Man himself didn’t notice Lance’s look, though, too busy checking out the outer wall.

“Your camp has a wall?” Keith asked.

“Two actually,” Lance grinned. “The one we just came through is the outer wall. It’s basically the first line of defense.”

Keith nodded towards the fifteen foot wall they were heading towards. “So that’s the inner wall, then?”

“Yep. Any guesses on how they got their names?”

“I wonder,” Keith said dryly.

Lance chuckled a second before waving up to the guards posted on top of the inner wall. Harris and Montgomery were on duty today, so all Lance got was a semi-suspicious look at Keith before they lifted the gate for the two of them.

Bringing stray humans into the camp wasn’t exactly uncommon, but as more time passed, it definitely got rarer. Either you were dead or you flocked to a camp. That was just how it was. It had to be hard to live on your own in this zombie-infested world.

“Guards?” Keith questioned once they passed through the gate. “They looked pretty loaded.”

“Yeah, well you can never be too careful,” Lance said. “At least that’s what Allura says.”

“Allura?”

“The leader around here.” Lance twirled a finger in the air as he led Keith over to the nearest group of buildings. “Which you’ll probably be meeting in a little bit.”

“Um? Okay?” Keith said, following him, and looking quite a bit overwhelmed. Lance, actually just a tiny,  _ eensy, weensy _ bit guilty about exploding at Keith earlier, decided to take pity on the guy. Best warn him now.

“First thing to know,” Lance said, "is don’t diss Allura. She’ll probably break your face off if you do. And if  _ she _ doesn’t,  _ Coran _ will. Second thing. Stay away from Pidge unless you want your dignity, pride, and-or limbs ripped to shreds.”

Keith looked alarmed. “What’s a Pidge?”

Lance face palmed. Like literally. His hand slapped his very own face. That’s how distressing this guy was. “Okay, looks like we’ve got a lot to talk about. I’ll tell you everything on the way."

“Yeah, sure,” Keith sighed, looking really, really resigned. Honestly, Lance wasn’t  _ that _ bad, no matter what the others said. “Lead the way.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look! I'm not dead! I definitely feel like it, though.

Pidge was waiting for them. Lance should have known.

He had led Keith to the Command Center without much interruption. It was about dinner time, and most everyone was probably in the mess hall, so it wasn't so surprising that no one was out and about. Lance just hoped that Allura was still in the Command Center, though. He didn't want to actually have to track her down-not when Keith was still keeping him somewhat on edge.

"This," Lance gestured to the large wooden structure coming up on the path—not the biggest building, but big enough to hold almost every adult and teenager in the camp, "is the Command Center."

Keith blinked at him. "What's it used for?"

"For commanding. Duh."

An irritated glare was shot Lance's way. "Okay, _yes._ But I mean, you mentioned Allura, your leader. Is this her headquarters?"

"Oh, you brought in a quick one," a voice called down from the roof of the Command Center, and Lance froze, Keith stuttering to a stop next to him as they looked up at the fourteen year old sitting _on top_ of the building.

"Pidge," Lance said, sighing. "I thought you and Hunk were working on the new bayards."

Keith glanced at Pidge, surprise written across his face. "Wait, Pidge is a _person?"_

Pidge smirked, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose, even though her goggles were hanging around her neck. "Last time I checked, yes." She stuck a hand out. "I'm Pidge. The resident genius."

Lance bit back a laugh. "You know he can't shake it, right? You're on the roof and his feet are planted on the ground."

Pidge shrugged. "If he really wanted to shake it, I'm sure he'd find his way up here. Eventually."

"Okayyyy," Keith said. "I'm Keith. Not a genius."

Pidge laughed. "Obviously. You asked about the _Command Center._ Even Lance could figure that one out."

Keith turned an interesting shade of red, and Lance decided that enough was enough. The guy still rubbed him the wrong way, whether Pidge was ribbing him or not. He figured it was time to take things seriously.

"So, Pidge. Bayards?" Lance asked.

Pidge frowned, a question in her eyes, but she didn't voice it. "We finished for the day, no thanks to you. Nobody gave you permission to take your bayard out in the field."

"I don't think I need permission if it's mine," Lance countered.

"They're still being field tested," Pidge shot back. "The last one blew up in Coran's face."

"Wait, are we talking about the weird gun thing from earlier?" Keith asked, tilting his head. Luckily, he didn't look so red anymore, which was good. Because the guy had a shorter fuse than anyone else Lance knew. "The compressible weapons?"

"You _used it?!"_ Pidge practically screamed, drawing her legs up close to her. She looked about ready to spring down and tackle Lance to the ground. Which he wouldn't put past her. "Lance!"

Lance waved her off. "Nothing blew up, or anything-okay. Well, actually the zombie's head I shot _did_ kind of explode, but that's supposed to happen."

"That's not the point!"

Pidge was fuming, but it was more than just petty anger, Lance realized. She was seriously mad at him. And Lance didn't think this was just about the bayard. Maybe it was a few things, and probably nothing he wanted to hash out right in front of Keith.

"Yeah, okay," Lance said, turning his gaze to the ground. "Got it. But yell at me later, maybe? I have to talk to Allura."

He could still feel Pidge's eyes on him, even though he wasn't actually looking at her. And Keith seemed tense next to him. Good call, then. The guy was too wound up about Mr. Missing to sit through one of Lance and Pidge's epic screaming matches. Hopefully she would save this for later, preferably when Hunk was there to calm Pidge down.

"...fine," Pidge huffed. "Allura's talking strategy with Coran right now, but you can probably go right in. But I want to talk to you later, Lance."

Yell at until he went deaf, was probably more like it.

"Yeah, yeah," Lance said. He walked towards the entrance, waving Keith along. "Come on, Keith. Let's go meet the princess."

Keith shot him a confused look as the walked through the door. "Princess?"

Lance nodded, checking the main-and largest-room. Allura wasn't there, so she was probably in the small office at the other end of the room. "Yeah. I don't really know much about it, but Allura was—is?—a princess of a small island. She was here with her father when the apocalypse started."

"So why is Allura the leader and not her father?" Keith asked as the crossed the room.

Lance shrugged. "He's not here. But I don't know more than that. I've never actually asked. I'm sure Coran will tell you if you're really interested."

Keith grimaced as they stopped before a small, unassuming door that led to Allura's office. "The only thing I'm really interested in is finding my brother."

"Then Allura's the one to go to." Lance knocked, waited a few seconds for a faint _"come in"_ and peeked into the office. "Hello, Princess," he said, flashing a grin.

Allura, who had been bent over a table in the center of the room, a drawn map of the area surrounding the camp spread out on top of it, looked up. She looked more than a little haggard, and Coran, who stood next to her, didn't look much better. They'd probably been there for hours, going over strategies and the like to rid the area of a zombie infestation.

"Lance," she greeted, smiling slightly.

It was still a little chilly towards him compared to the others, which, yeah okay, he deserved still. Back when this had first started out, he knew he hadn't exactly controlled his emotions very well, and he'd been really insensitive. Back then, he'd practically flirted with anything that moved. Now, though. Now flirting was the farthest thing from his mind. Not the Allura would know that, though. So her greeting made sense, even if it still made him a little sad.

Coran, however, had no qualms about him. "Lance! To what do we owe the pleasure. Good news, I hope?"

"I found a straggler when I was out," Lance told them, "and he's hoping to get some help finding someone."

Allura waved him in. "Come on, then."

Lance pulled Keith inside the office with him, shutting the door behind him. "This is Keith."

Keith scratched the back of his neck. "Um, I was split up from my brother earlier, and I was hoping you could help me find him."

Allura's smile was strained, but it wasn't unkind. "I am very sorry to hear that. Unfortunately, it is not uncommon in these times for us to lose loved ones." Keith bristled at that, opening his mouth-probably to say something stupid-before Lance nudged him with an elbow.

"Dude," he hissed.

Keith closed his mouth, but shot him a withering glare. Lance tried to pretend it didn't affect him.

"However," Allura continued, "we will do our best to find your brother, just as we are doing our best to find the others."

"The others?" Keith asked.

"Yes, the others," Allura said, her voice sad. "It's not been easy, but over the past year many have been separated from their friends and families. We are doing our best to find each and every one of them."

There was a lump in Lance's throat, all of the sudden, and he suddenly hated that he was standing there, allowing himself to think about this when he'd gone so long without a single thought. He didn't walk out, though. It would only bring Keith's attention back to him, and then he'd probably have to answer more questions.

Better just to wait it out. And better that Pidge wasn't here. She'd probably be sending out the cavalry, exploding bayard, or not.

"For now, feel free to stay here," Coran offered. "I'm sure Lance can show you to the a room until something a little more permanent can be arranged."

"I'm not staying for long," Keith told him, his eyebrows knitted. "Just until I find Shiro."

 _Shiro._ Sounded familiar.

Coran nodded, a look of complete understanding crossing his face. "Of course. Until then, Lance can show you where you'll be staying."

Keith hesitated before saying, "...thank you."

Allura smiled. "It's almost dark. Eat and sleep, and we'll work something out tomorrow."

Lance forced a grin on his face, and while it felt kind of wooden, Keith, Allura, and Coran, didn't know him well enough to call him out on it. Only Hunk and Pidge would probably be able tell that he wasn't quite feeling it, and even then, sometimes he could get past them.

 _Probably not today_ , he thought as he waved goodbye to Allura and Coran and pulled Keith out of the office. _Pidge is on a warpath, she'll notice right away, and if she's still on the roof…._

Not good.

"So," Lance said after they crossed the main room. He glanced over at Keith. "When's the last time you ate?"

Keith shrugged. "This morning?"

Lance's grin loosened up a bit at the edges. "So, that means you're hungry, right?"

"Yeah?"

Lance shoved out the door, laughing a bit. This was awesome. Lance himself hadn't eaten himself since breakfast, and neither had Keith, and dinner was probably just about over for most people. So that meant—

"What's got you so happy?" Pidge asked when both Keith and Lance made it outside the Command Center. She was on the ground now, thankfully. "You usually look upset when you come out of there, not ready to burst into laughter."

"Dinner's almost over, and I'm _starving,"_ Lance said, bouncing up on his toes and then back down. "And you know what that means?"

Keith blinked, looking between happy Lance and exasperated Pidge. "What does that mean?"

"Hunk has the kitchen!" Lance exclaimed.

Keith didn't look any less confused, but whatever.

Pidge sighed. "Come find me when you're done. I'm not through with you yet."

Lance mock saluted her and grabbed Keith's wrist, reminiscent of earlier in the day when they were running from zombies. Now, though, they were running towards the best food in the world.

"Where are we going?" Keith asked.

"The mess hall!" Lance told him. "Hunk's food is _to die_ for!"

"Wrong choice of words!" Pidge yelled at him, but he ignored her, pulling Keith along as the kitchens came into view.

This day was about to get a lot more sweet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ending feels a little abrupt, but I want to tackle Hunk in his own chapter. Other than that, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. I've finally figured out the big plot for this story (and yes, wow. It's foreshadowed in this chapter) so you'll probably be able to expect quicker updates (you won't have to wait for months) now that I know where I'm going with this. Let me know what you thought!


	4. Chapter 4

Hunk, it turned out, _was_ in the kitchen, and Lance all but shoved his way through the stragglers finishing up in the mess hall—which wasn’t really much more than a wooden building with a bunch of tables and a kitchen shoved to the far wall, a half-wall doubling as a counter separating it from the tables.

Keith was behind him, struggling to keep up, but Lance didn’t pay much attention to the guy other than making sure he didn’t lose him.

“Hunk!” Lance called, grin plastered on his face as he eagerly lent over the half-wall. “Hunk, _please_ tell me you’ve got something good cooking.”

Hunk snorted, turning around to face Lance and a wary Keith coming up behind him. “When _don’t_ I have something good cooking?”

Lance laughed a little, before perking up. He dug through his backpack, pulling out a sealed can. “Hey, man, I got you a surprise!”

Hunk raised his eyebrows. “A good surprise or a Lance surprise?”

Lance almost lost the grip on the can as he spluttered. “H-Hey! Hunk! I would _never—”_

“You totally would,” Hunk told him, “and you totally have. Several times. Anyways, surprise?”

Lance cleared his throat and tried to pretend that Keith’s eye weren’t carefully watching him. He knew he was acting pretty differently from before, but Hunk always seemed to be the key to unwinding completely after being outside the camp gates. He tried not to think about what that said about him.

“It’s a good surprise this time,” Lance said. He held out the can, smiling. “Surprise.”

Hunk’s face lit up, and Lance felt like this whole weird day was suddenly worth it. He would take on a whole army of zombies just to make sure that radiating happiness never left Hunk’s face. And he’d caught Hunk at this best time for it, too—in the kitchen, Hunk’s element.

 _“Pineapple,”_ Hunk breathed, taking the can into his own hands. “I can’t believe you finally found a can, Lance!”

Lance shrugged. “It took a while, but I got lucky today. Found a neighborhood on the other side of the woods that nobody’s hit, yet.”

“Lance, thank you so—wait.” Hunk looked up from the pineapple can, dark eyes going wide with worry. “I thought Iverson forbid you from going out on your own. Especially in unexplored territory.”

“Since when do I do what that jackass tells me to?”

“Yeah, but, he’s technically in charge of us, Lance,” Hunk said slowly, turning around only to put away the precious pineapple can in a box on the floor labelled _Hunk’s ingredients_. Good name, and people knew not to touch it, too. Hunk turned back to Lance. “If he finds out—”

“—I’ll deal with it,” Lance said firmly, not willing to discuss this any further with Keith still shifting uncomfortably behind him. He hurried to change the subject. “Anyways, Hunk, do you have any food left over for me and Keith?”

Hunk’s eyes flitted over to Keith, and it was like a flip was switched. “Oh. Uh, hi. Sorry, I didn’t really see you there. I didn’t mean to exclude you, or anything—”

“It’s fine,” Keith said, expression screaming about ten times over that he _really_ didn’t want to be here.

Hunk noticed the expression, and almost seemed to shrink in on himself. Lance grimaced at that, hating the fact that his friend was self-conscious around new people. He was glad that Hunk had at least relaxed enough to be comfortable with him and Pidge, though. That was a win.

“So, how ‘bout it?” Lance asked. “Got any chow left?”

“Oh,” Hunk said, fumbling with a few plates behind him. He set them both in front of Lance. “Here. Uh, you stole the bayard, so I thought you’d gone on patrol. I made up some extra plates and set them aside since I wasn’t sure how long you’d be out, or if you’d even be back at all tonight. But I didn’t want to take the chance of you guys going hungry, even if you _didn’t_ come back late—”

“Hey, man,” Lance said. “Remember to breathe.”

Hunk flushed. “Right. You guys should go eat.”

Lance nodded, taking the offered plate and shoving the other one at Keith. “Yeah, we will. Thanks for the food, Hunk!”

“Thanks for the pineapple,” Hunk told him before turning his eyes to Keith, even though it was a bit hesitant. “And it was nice to meet you, Keith.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” Keith said.

Lance led the way to an empty table, setting down his plate—which mostly just had fruits and vegetables on it, since meat was a little harder to come by than the stuff they grew in their greenhouses—before plopping down into one of the mismatched chairs. Keith followed his example, albeit a little more hesitantly.

“Hunk seems nice,” Keith said after a few moments of just eating their food. “Is he the cook around here?”

Lance shrugged. “Not really? I mean, he’s _a_ cook—or chef, whatever—but it’s more of a hobby for him, I think. He spends too much time helping Pidge and the others with the sciencey stuff to become a cook full time.”

“But he made this?” Keith said, pointing to the food in front of them.

“Yeah,” Lance nodded, “but he doesn’t always get a chance to do this. He’s in the lab more often than he isn’t, so this was a rare treat.”

Keith made a thoughtful noise. “Have you known him long?”

Lance grinned and tried to keep it natural. “My whole life. Our moms were best friends in high school. We were practically raised together. He’s basically family.”

Keith suddenly looked sick, and Lance had a feeling he’d opened his big mouth and said something he shouldn’t have. Instead of trying to make up for it like he usually would, though, Lance kept silent, letting Keith work through whatever was plaguing him by himself.

It was odd. For some reason, Keith kept him off-balance in a way that Lance had never experienced before. At first Lance had thought it was because of the circumstances under which he’d met Keith. But as he’d spent more and more time with the guy throughout the day, it was obvious that the way they’d met wasn’t the problem—it was Keith himself.

Just—something about Keith rubbed Lance the wrong way, and he couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was.

“What is it?”

Lance started. “Huh?”

Keith scowled at him. “You’re staring at me. Do I have something on my face?”

The way he said that, Lance had to wonder if he’d even care if he did. Lance blinked. “No, I just got lost in thought,” he said, turning his attention back to his plate of food. He picked up his fork. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Fine,” Keith muttered, stabbing a carrot with a lot more force than necessary.

Lance snorted. “You don’t need to murder your food, you know.”

Keith, who had been glaring at his food as he chewed, looked up with a bewildered expression. “…What?”

“Never mind,” Lance sighed.

The rest of their meal was eaten in silence (it was amazing, go Hunk), and after they were finished, Lance left their plates with the cleanup crew, waved a goodbye to Hunk, and led Keith out the door.

“I’m going to drop you off at the dorms for the night,” Lance said as they left the mess hall. “Breakfast starts at seven, and you’re probably welcome to explore the camp on your own, but I’m sure Allura wants to talk to you tomorrow, so make sure you stop by the Command Center at some point.”

“You’re not coming with me?”

Lance grinned. “As flattered as I am that you want me to keep being your escort—”

“I don’t,” Keith interjected.

“—I’m afraid I have an early patrol assignment tomorrow that’s unavoidable,” Lance continued, not even acknowledging that Keith had spoken. “But I don’t think Hunk has anything pressing, so he can probably help you out if you _really_ need someone.”

“I’ll be fine on my own,” Keith said, if a bit icily, and Lance thought that maybe he’d laid it on a little thick, but it was too late to take it back now. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Didn’t say you did,” Lance said, pulling open a door to one of the rooms he knew was empty in the cluster of buildings that held the bunks. “Here we are.”

Keith’s eyebrows rose as he took in the small space. “This is where I’m staying?”

Lance tried to keep himself from bristling. “It’s not a five-star hotel or anything, but it’s a _bed to sleep on_ , so if I were you I’d take what I could get.”

“That’s not what I—oh never mind,” Keith said, his arms crossing over his chest almost protectively. “It’s fine.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Lance said, the rigidity he hadn’t noticed before falling from his shoulders. He felt a little wrong-footed from the back and forth between him and Keith, and it was hard to get a grip on his emotions. This all went back to that something he was having a problem identifying. “Just. I’ll probably see you tomorrow at dinner or something.”

“Yeah,” said Keith quietly, not really looking at Keith. “Thanks for bringing me here, I guess. I…appreciate it.”

Lance shrugged, managing to get his lips to twitch upwards. “Hey, I don’t abandon people, even if they’re idiots who don’t know that you don’t escape zombies by just running away and hiding from them.”

 _“How_ was I supposed to know that?” Keith asked, exasperated.

“I would think experience,” Lance said, his eyebrows furrowing. “Seriously, how have you managed to survive this long?”

Keith threw his arms up in exasperation. “Please leave. Now.”

“Fine,” Lance said, retreating. He was just about to walk out the door, when he hesitated. “You know,” Lance said, still facing the door, “I know that Allura probably wasn’t too encouraging, talking about people losing their loved ones, but she’s going to do her best to help you. Really.”

Keith was quiet for a moment, and Lance was about to give up on a response when Keith finally murmured a quiet, “Thanks, Lance. For, you know, bringing me here.”

“I’d do it for anyone,” Lance said. Then he opened the door, muttered a quiet, _“good night,”_ and closed the door behind him.

He walked to his and Hunk’s shared room in quiet contemplation. It probably wasn’t Keith’s fault, he just had the type of personality that seemed to clash with Lance’s. And as much as he didn’t want to admit it, Keith’s desperation to get his brother back was bringing back memories—memories Lance would rather forget at this point in his life.

When he got to his room, he wasn’t surprised to see Pidge perched on Hunk’s bed, tinkering with something.

Lance groaned. “I’m really not up to another argument, Pidge,” he told her. “Can’t this wait until later?”

Pidge shot him a look. “Who said this was going to be an argument?”

Lance collapsed on his own bed on the opposite side of the room. “You mean it isn’t?”

“Despite what you think, I don’t always want to yell at you.”

“Just tell me what you want, Pidge.”

Pidge frowned at him. “You stole your bayard. _And_ you disobeyed Commander Iverson.”

“Does that surprise you?” Lance asked, raising an eyebrow to the best of his ability with his face half-smooshed into the bed the way it was. “Literally when have I ever done what Iverson has told meto  do?”

Pidge made an irritated noise. “You can’t keep doing this, Lance.”

Lance pushed himself up from lying on the bed, looking over to Pidge. He met her gaze evenly. “And who’s going to stop me? You? You never have before. Hunk won’t interfere as long as he knows I’m thinking things through. Iverson doesn’t know I’m sneaking out, and Allura and Coran both know, but don’t actually do anything about it. So who, Pidge? Tell me who’s going to stop me.”

“I get it, Lance,” Pidge said. “I get that you feel tapped—”

“I actually don’t think you do,” Lance snapped. “You’ve got the bayards, and all of that technology, and you’re actually _on_ the Search Team, so I don’t think you get to tell me how I feel.”

Pidge didn’t get it, as much as she thought she did. Yeah, she was desperate to find her dad and her brother, just as desperate as anyone else who had lost someone, but she was _doing_ something about it. She was _able_ to do something about it without breaking the rules like Lance did almost every other day.

Pidge however, didn’t agree.

“You think I don’t want to be out there every minute of every _day?_ ” Pidge seethed. “I know more than anyone how it feels to want to be useful, Lance! Why do you think that I’m pouring myself into all of this!”

“Yeah, but you’ve at least got the _chance!_ ” Lance yelled, trying to ignore the burning in his eyes. “The most anyone lets me do around here is patrol, and that’s only like three times a week! Iverson hates my guts, and he won’t even _consider_ putting me on the Search Team. You have no idea how that feels, Pidge!”

“You’re not helping anything by putting yourself in danger like this!”

Lance wanted to scream, but somehow managed not to. Instead, he grabbed his head, and hunched in on himself. “I have to do _something_ ,” Lance hissed. “Whatever I can!”

“Lance, that bayard could have exploded on you today,” Pidge tried again, this time a measure calmer. “What if it had blown up in your face, hurting you and giving away your position? What would you have done then?”

“It didn’t.”

“But it _could have.”_

“It _didn’t,”_ Lance pushed. “And if it had, I would have improvised! Despite what people like to think, I _do_ actually know what I’m doing.”

Pidge frowned. “I’m not doubting your abilities, Lance. Just your judgement. Sometimes you don’t think things through, and it costs you.”

“I’m not going to die,” Lance said.

“You’re not invincible,” Pidge told him, expression grave enough that Lance almost felt guilty for pushing her on a topic like this. _Almost_. “Running into things is going to get you or someone else killed, Lance, and I don’t think I can handle losing another person right now.”

“I _won’t,”_ Lance said, his voice firm. “I’m not an idiot, and you know I don’t run into things blind when I’m out there, Pidge. You _know_ that.”

Pidge didn’t speak for a moment. “Lance—”

“I don’t mess around with things that can get me killed.”

Pidge blew out a sigh. “Sometimes, you scare the hell out of me, Lance. You run off, and I never know if you’re going to come back.”

Lance closed his eyes and sprawled back on his bed. His emotions were way too close to the surface after spending his day around Keith and Keith’s desperation, and Lance didn’t want to talk about all this heavy stuff anymore. He was too worn out.

In times like these, Lance wished his mother was here to tuck his hair behind his ear and whisper the stories from her childhood, just like she did when he was little. Other times, he wished it was his older sister, taking no shit and ready to kick the hell out of anybody that even looked at Lance the wrong way. Every once in a while, he wished it was one of his brothers. His older brothers, nudging him and teasing him. Those times were a lot rarer, though.

Maybe the hurt for his mother and sister were just that much fresher.

Instead of trying to respond to the heaviness Pidge had accidentally pulled out of him—already so close to the surface anyways—Lance just closed his eyes and whispered, “I’m tired, Pidge, and we’ve got to patrol in the morning.”

Pidge, to her credit, dropped it.

“Fine,” she said, and he heard her shift on Hunk’s bed—probably getting up. “Hunk will be here soon, anyways. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And then Pidge was gone, and Lance was left alone in an empty room with his swirling thoughts, and even though he was exhausted, he didn’t think he was going to get much sleep tonight. He closed his eyes and wished that things with Pidge had gone better.

Maybe next time. Or at least, that’s what he had always told himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are getting heavier. Yikes. Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

That night, Lance dreamed.

His dreams usually weren’t too bad, but it seemed that his issues with Keith and his argument with Pidge had been enough to pull out the bad memories. Which sucked. A lot.

And, yeah. They were memories. Terrible ones that Lance wished he could forget a thousand times over, but seemed to keep holding onto anyways. He dreamed, and they blended into each other, overlapping, blurring, until Lance couldn’t quite tell what he was dreaming about.

Until it sharpened with a _snap._

_His mother. Her beautiful smile. Her long, dark hair. Her warm eyes. All of it gone in an instant. Lance didn’t remember much after that. Just. One minute she was there, warm eyes fierce as she screamed at Lance “RUN!” like it would make any difference at all, and the next she was gone, taken from right before his eyes, bitten._

_There was no saving her._

_Lance didn’t know that, though._

_Ben, however, did._

_Lance tried to fight when his big brother dragged him, Mari, and Lira away, Jaime charging after them. They didn’t stop. They kept going and going until they reached the forest. Lance could barely breathe, barely listen as Ben told them to start climbing the tree he’d picked out._

_What in the_ hell _had just happened._

_Lira started sobbing, but that didn’t stop Ben. He just scooped the twelve-year-old up, Jaime helping him get her arms around his neck, and started beckoning his siblings back up the tree again. Lance, pretty much on autopilot, was cajoled into the tree, and then he started crying, too._

_He was so mad. At everything. And so confused. More confused than he even knew how to deal with. So he just started crying and let Mari, already sitting on the branch Ben had pushed him onto, pull him closer, and pet his hair, even as the spark in her eyes flickered._

_They came when Jaime was still on the ground. It was so sudden that none of them were prepared for it._

_Ben had just deposited Lira in the branch above Lance and Mari’s, and Jaime was just about to make his climb up, and then suddenly they were there. Zombies. The things that had taken his mother. The things that Ben had saved the rest of his siblings from._

_Or. Maybe not the rest of his siblings, because they were here, and it was too late for Jaime to climb the tree. He wouldn’t make it. They weren’t as slow as the movies made them out to be, and Jaime didn’t have any_ time. _He had to run or they’d get him._

_“JAIME!” Ben shouted. Why, Lance didn’t know. Jaime knew the things were there. Jaime knew there would be no time. Jaime knew he had to run. Lance could see it in his eyes. So Lance didn’t know why Ben called out to Jaime like that. Maybe it was a ‘I’m going to call out to you while I know you can still answer’ kind of thing._

_If it was, then maybe Lance should do it, too. Because from the look in Jaime’s eyes, Lance didn’t think he’d get the chance again. Just like his mother. Just like his father._

_Jaime yelled up, “Ben! I’m going to lead them away from you guys! I’ll catch up with you soon!”_

_And then he was gone._

_Lance never saw Jaime again._

_His second oldest brother, his mother. Both lost to the Apocalypse._

_Lance lost his grip on his tree branch, slipping, and instead of barely catching him like last time, his dream took control. Ben’s fingers didn’t grab him in time. Lance was falling. And as he watched himself devoured by the swarming zombies, the things that had decimated his family by just existing, Lance thought that the pain of death was_ nothing _compared to the pain of losing his mom and his brother._

* * *

 

Lance woke up gasping for breath, and he couldn’t seem to catch it, no matter how hard he tried.

“Lance, you’re okay,” Hunk hushed, wrapping him up in his arms, just like he used to when the nightmares used to get too vivid, back before Lance was able to push it all down—just be Lance and not seasoned war veteran number four.

Lance buried his face into Hunk’s chest and tried to make it all go away. Tried to breathe. Tried to feel like his whole wasn’t crashing down around him over and over again. Damn Keith. Damn him. How had one person done so much to bring out this ugly, ugly part of him? It didn’t make sense. Nothing made sense anymore. At least, not right now. Not while he—while he—

He felt sick.

He pushed away from Hunk’s comfort and out of bed. “I gotta—I gotta go,” he murmured, tears still in his eyes, lungs still heaving for oxygen.

Hunk managed to snag him before he could get very far, though, and he pulled Lance back onto the bed and—shit. Lance let him. “No, Lance. It’s okay.”

“It’s _not_ okay,” Lance told him, gasps turning into sobs. “I’ve gotta go see her. She needs me!”

Hunk shook his head. “She’s fine, Lance. Lira’s with her, so you don’t need to worry, okay? Just go back to sleep. You’ve got patrol in a couple of hours.”

Lance let the tension in his body go, slumping into Hunk’s hold. He wouldn’t sleep, but he wouldn’t go, either. Not if Hunk said it was okay. And he trusted Hunk enough to know that Hunk would tell him if it wasn’t.

“Everything is so messed up,” Lance whispered, and Hunk said nothing in response, because they both knew it was too true.

And they stayed like that until morning.

* * *

 

Pidge’s nose was scrunched up at Lance when he met up with her in the morning. Thankfully—seriously, she was _actually_ doing him a favor which was weird enough—she didn’t mention how absolute crap he looked in front of the others gathering in front of the inner wall.

“Iverson’s on a war path,” was all she said, and he was kind of glad that she was dropping all tense subjects that could lead to potential arguments. They were about to go on patrol. She stared at him, though, her eyes knowing. “Just watch out.”

Lance nodded, and didn’t answer.

It was a good thing, too, because Iverson—the biggest jerk face ever to live in the entire universe—stomped up to him, nostrils flaring.

“Nice of you to join us,” he sneered like Lance _wasn’t_ there on time with literally the entire patrol unit. Iverson was just looking for an excuse to kick him off patrol duty, though, so Lance still kept quiet. He _needed_ this, and he wasn’t going to let a stupid comeback ruin it for him.

Iverson walked away, but Lance didn’t relax. They were about to go back out there. Guard up.

“Make sure everyone has your knives ready,” Iverson called out as he paced back and forth in front of their group. “Guns, too. No bayards today. The science division wants them to stay in the camp, so if you have one, come forward now.”

No one came forward. And even if they had one, they probably wouldn’t tell Iverson. Pidge was giving Lance the stink eye. She had probably already guessed he was still toting his bayard around—which. He didn’t really care. She wouldn’t tell on him. And as long as Iverson didn’t catch him, he was golden.

After a moment, Iverson clapped his hands together. “Right. We’re to take the path through the woods today, check the far town for any lingering zombies.” The town Lance had found Keith in. Great. “Our goal is not to fight them, just check out how many we’re dealing with and if we can expand the walls of the camp that far. If you find one, do _not_ shoot on sight. You’ll be splitting into groups of two or three and leading them into the woods to pick them off. _If_ you encounter a hoard, don’t be stupid enough to get noticed. Don’t try to fight them. If you _do_ somehow get noticed by the hoard, then by all means. Shoot. No guarantee you’re coming out of it alive, though.”

See? Just generally assholery (Was that a word? Probably not, but Lance was keeping that).

But it was a spiel that they’d all heard before. It was the patrol unit’s job, after all, to find and clear out the loner zombies, leading them into the woods, away from the walls and the towns. Patrol didn’t handle the hoards, though. That was the big guns of the camp.

The Artillery Unit.

(It was actually a pretty badass name if he did say so himself. And that wasn’t just because he helped pick it.)

“We clear?” Iverson asked.

A chorus of scattered “yes sir”s rang out, and then the inner wall’s gate was being lifted. They went through, and then Iverson punched in the code for the outer wall’s door, and they were through that one, weapons at the ready as they stepped away from the safety of the camp.

“Wanna team up?” Lance asked Pidge.

“Team up with you?” Pidge snorted. “What makes you think I want to?”

Lance forced a grin, elbowing her lightly in the shoulder. “You know you _want_ to.”

Pidge rolled her eyes. “Fine, sure. Whatever. Just don’t annoy me with that thing you do.”

“What thing?”

“The _thing.”_

“I have _no_ idea what you’re talking about,” Lance feigned ignorance.

“You _do!”_ Pidge huffed. “You get all edgy and twitchy.”

Lance shot her a look. “They’re zombies, Pidge. You want me to just walk up to one and shake their hand? I’m sure that’ll go over _real_ well.”

In a way, she was kind of right, though. Sometimes, he could turn up the dial a bit too high when it came to being out here. Pidge knew him inside and out, and she was really the only one who could handle him, even if she said she hated it.

They did this every time, though. Lance didn’t know why, but it made him feel a little better. Maybe if he tried a little harder he could keep things just a little bit lighter. Maybe he wouldn’t be so paranoid and on edge.

But then he ran the risk of being _too_ lax.

He could never win, though, so best not to think about it too much.

Pidge nudged him. “You ready?”

Lance forced his grin a bit wider, remembering what he’d told Keith the day before. “You kidding? You’re talking to the Zombie Slayer _extraordinaire_.”

Pidge shook her head, but she looked like she was fighting a smile. He was glad. He hated how they’d left things the night before, and they were a great team once they’d started working together. Perfect to watch each other’s backs.

“Right,” she said. “Let’s go Zombie Slayer. It’s time to slay some zombies.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure how many chapters this will be, and updates will be sporadic due to my awful schedule and some amazing procrastination skills.
> 
> I'm @lanceaboo on tumblr.


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